


There will always be your heart

by spacegirl



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Liverpool F.C., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-13 10:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacegirl/pseuds/spacegirl
Summary: There's a lot of emotions wrapped up in football, sometimes it's too easy for Dejan to get lost in them. But Mo has always been there like sunshine brightening the sad days.There's a lot of emotions wrapped in football, Mohammed is glad he never has to focus on the sad ones, because he's got Dejan. And that's all he needs to make him smile like he's won all the trophies he could dream of.





	1. 26/05/18 - Kiev

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing football fic so I'm worried this might be a bit of a mess characterisation wise or even accuracy wise (I don't think Mo left Kiev before everyone else) but - all these feelings were trapped in my chest and I couldn't not write an angsty fic.
> 
> Also - This isn't super Dejan/Mo right now but will be by the next chapter with less of the sads so sorry if you feel a bit mislead.
> 
> Enjoy! I'd love to know what you think!

Mo sat crying holding his shoulder as the Liverpool medical staff ran onto the pitch towards him, Dejan’s stomach lurched. He felt sick, he knew it was a dirty tackle and Real Madrid had decided to play unfairly. To take Mo out of the game as soon as they had the chance. The ground felt wobbly beneath his feet as he started walking closer to Mo, the ringing in his ears enough to drown out the thousands of fans shouting.

There was a gleeful spite in Ramos’ eyes as the tone of the stadium shifted, from excitement all around to a complete split between sides. Suddenly the atmosphere became sharp, a newly nervous Liverpool team and the Liverpool fan's anxiety rising, hearts hammering in their chests. Lovren spat, anger overtaking all the sadness for a moment, lost in his rage at the injustice of Ramos not being shown a red card. It was unfair to the fans who had travelled to see the game, it was unfair to the team, who would have to carry on playing with their star surgically taken down and out of the game. But most of all Dejan’s heart broke because it was so unfair on Mohammed.

Mo who had smiled bright at him all day before, somehow managing to shine brighter than usual, excited to go to the final, believing they could win the final. Now all of that was snatched away, and Mo would have to miss playing out the match. Sat on the sidelines stomaching the fact that one of his lifelong dreams had crumbled into a nightmare. Dejan tries to put it out of his head as he watches Mo leave the pitch in clear agony.

When the half time whistle goes Lovren runs into their dressing room, past teammates and staff,to Mo in one of the medical rooms they’ve been assigned. He stops still in the doorway, a sweaty mess, heart hammering, breathing ragged from playing. Searching his brain for something to say that would make any of this better, anything that could take away the heartbreak that had engulfed them all. The room is still and Mo is led on the bed, his one arm in a sling, trying to take smooth slow breaths in an attempt to suppress the tears.

Dejan can see them running down the side of his face as he stares resolutely at the ceiling, chest rising and falling a little faster, the sobs threatening to break. Dejan steps forward and Mo sits up slowly, lifting his weight on his good arm. Dejan is sure that all the things he’s not saying are still managing to flood the entire room, his own nervous sadness, spilling through every movement he makes at Mo’s bedside. Mo is staring at the far wall, biting his lip and trying not to let the wave of Dejan’s emotions break him.

“Mo,” Dejan almost whispers his name, like it’s a prayer, like a noise could disturb the room enough to hurt him further. Dejan steps closer again, his face so open with sadness and tears pricking in his eyes, Mo doesn’t look at him and instead just shakes his head slightly.

Dejan reaches for Mo’s hands, he flinches at first as Dejan takes hold of them and when Dejan holds them tighter Mo’s lip begins to quiver, the tears really threatening to take over. Dejan sighs, pressing his face into the soft curls of hair on his head, “Mo.” He starts to move to pull Mo into a gentle hug.

Mo pulls back, leaning away from the contact. He takes a ragged breath in “Don’t Dej.” It stings but he steps back, still staring at Mo, waiting for him to look up at him. Desperately searching Mohammed’s features for a sign of what he needs to make any of this better; but there’s nothing. In truth, somewhere in the back of his mind Dejan can accept that there’s nothing he could ever do to fix what’s happened, or even take the sadness away, but his heart stings seeing Mo like this and being completely unable to help. Mo's eyes are still trained on the concrete wall and Dejan doesn’t know what to do, he’s never felt shut out like this. He waits for a moment and then goes to touch Mo’s wrist, but he flinches. “Don’t.” And Mohammed finally breaks, looking up at Dejan through tear filled eyes, gritting his teeth, trying not to fall apart.

“Hey-” Lovren starts, reaching out towards Salah’s face before his hand is swatted away.

“Don’t. I don’t want you to be here.” Mo’s voice cracks then, a sob shaking his whole body as he curls in on himself to hide his face from Dejan. “Be with the team.” He looks up at Lovren with his face set - determined not to let more tears fall. “Just leave.”

Dejan feels hurt and confused and just wants to help Mo in some way. But he does as he’s asked and leaves. Virgil pulls him into a hug as soon as he’s back in the changing room, crushing his face into his chest, Dejan wishes they had a little longer so he could deal with the sadness overtaking him. Find a way to push it out of his mind, or at least to compartmentalise it a bit. He tells himself he has to get over it for Mo, or has to channel it into playing harder than ever before for the fans. In reality though as they're lining back up in the tunnel, he just knows he has to stay afloat and play - to not get dragged under a tidal wave of emotions and just get on with the job.

They get back out on the pitch and it’s all a blur up until when the final whistle blows and they’ve lost 3-1, Dejan can’t stop the tears, he’s sobbing on the pitch. Completely overtaken now by his heartbreak, completely lost under the wave of sadness. He can’t wait to see Mo after the game so they can curl up in their sadness together.

He doesn’t see Mo again at the stadium. There’s press and interviews and medical staff and drug testing and more that they all go through in a grey haze. Heartbroken, defeated, disappointed. They’re rushed from place to place and the next time Lovren has a quiet moment, he’s stood alone in their hotel room. It’s too quiet and he feels so cold and it’s the same quiet tension that took over the small medical room. And he can’t stop remembering how he felt looking at Mo on the medical room bed.

He texts Hendo and finds out that Mo’s being flown back to England early, more medical tests, x-rays, and scans will be all he’s doing for the next few days. He lies in the hotel bed they shared the night before, clutching Mo’s pillow and wishing he could fall asleep without replaying all the parts of the match he wishes he could do-over. All the stupid mistakes he made, all the runs he didn't predict.

It doesn’t work, and he can only suffer through this alone for so long. He heads out to find who else is stuck in an insomniac limbo of self-hate, and within ten minutes he’s sat in bed propped against the pillows in Virgil and Gini’s room. Gini is dropping off to sleep on his right as Virgil flicks through the TV channels on his left, when he finally settles on a channel he reaches over and passes Dejan a glass of whiskey.

They clink their glasses together quietly and Virgil slings his arm around Lovren’s shoulders, pulling him in close. “We’ll all get through this.” His deep voice is barely more than a whisper. “We all will, Mo too. It’ll be history before long - we’ll all be back from international break getting back to normal, getting ready for next season.”

Dejan doesn’t have the determination to even begin thinking about the next season yet, but he nods and sips his whiskey, zoning out as he focuses on the TV. Glad at least that if he's going to be stuck awake with his feelings, he doesn’t have to be alone in the empty room that started feeling too loud with the absence of Mohammed.


	2. 07/06/18 - Liverpool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward from the sadness of the final to some Mo and Dejan fluff with a hint of angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always feel nervous writing and then posting sex scenes. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear what you think.

It’s the longest he’s gone without seeing Mo in a while, and they would usually be texting everyday when they’re apart but instead it’s been quiet. The whole team has been quiet, taking a break to get ready for international duty in the upcoming world cup, or going on holiday with their families, trying to get over losing the final.

Trying to run away from the gloom that’s taken over their minds. They’ll come back from this, and they’ll work harder to learn from their mistakes - Lovren knows - but for now, they’re trying to forget it ever happened. To forget the feelings that keep looping back into their minds as soon as there’s a quiet moment.

He gets back to Liverpool after being in Croatia for a while and texts Mo as soon as he’s abandoned his cases and collapsed onto his bed.

 _Back in Liverpool brate, are you here or away? We should get coffee._ He stares at the grey tick until it becomes two, and then stares at the screen for a moment more before sending another.

_I miss you so much._

He’s scrolling through instagram when the response comes through. _I’ve been missing you too. I’m here, I’ll come to yours tomorrow with coffee?_

For the first time in what feels like far too long, Dejan’s smiling like an idiot.

Mo gets to his house the next day with two cups of coffee, their usual orders from Costa and is all bright smiles, Dejan invites him in. “You bring coffee to my house and you don’t even have the decency to bring Starbucks?”

Mo laughs, “Why would I bring you bad coffee? I want to be a good guest.”

“Starbucks is better coffee.” Dejan argues, throwing his hands in the air in mock exasperation, unable to hide the cheesy smile that has taken over his face since Mohammed had stepped through the door.

“You think that, but you're wrong.” Mo’s laugh is light and his eyes are gleaming, Dejan lets out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding, and a layer of anxiety seeps away. He was worried that all the sadness from when Mo got hurt and when they lost the match would come flooding back seeing Mo again, but instead it’s simple, they’re back in their natural rhythm.

Mo sets the coffee down on the table and pulls Lovren into a hug, “How’s your shoulder?” Dejan asks tentatively, cautious as he hugs him. He presses a kiss onto Mohammeds forehead. 

“It still hurts a bit, but it’s not so bad.” Mo pulls back and shrugs with the bad shoulder slightly, showing that at least he can move it again without wanting to scream from the pain. He wraps his arms around Lovren’s waist, leaning his head against his chest. “I don’t really care right now though.”

He smiles up at Dejan before leaning up to kiss him, gentle and sweet as Dejan’s hands come up to cup his face, his tongue sliding briefly against Mo’s lips - teasing slightly, making Mo sigh into the kiss before they pull apart. Grinning at each other in the hallway like lovesick idiots, feeling like their worlds were getting back on track, back together like they belong.

They sit on the sofa, curled into one another, sharing their stories of everything that’s been going on since the final. For Mo it’s stories of medical tests and results, the plans they’ve made for rehabilitation training at Melwood, worries about not being able to play in the world cup. Dejan shares stories of opening his hotel in Croatia, of a few wild nights partying to try and block out the sadness of their defeat. Mo smiles and rolls his eyes at Dejan's drunken escapades.

“So, when will I be getting flown out to Croatia to stay in your hotel?” Mo asks, a smile slowly spreading across his face as he reaches to run his fingers through the hair on the nape of Dejan’s neck.

“Oh, whenever you book to go.” Mo tilts his head, giggling as Dejan tuts in fake annoyance. “You can’t afford to take yourself on nice holidays?”

“Of course, but why would I want to pay to go to your hotel? You’re a footballer not a hotel manager, will it even be any good?” Dejan swears under his breath as Mo finishes, gesturing at the room around them. “Judging by how you’ve decorated your house, I probably wouldn’t pay to go there, no.”

Mo is smiling wide now, eyes filled with laughter and Dejan forgets everything that’s happened for a split second. forgets Mo’s injury as he moves quickly to push Mo down and pin him against the cushions. “Rudeness is-”

Mo’s eyes widen and he winces before squeezing his eyes shut tight, breath catching slightly as his right hand reaches up towards his bad shoulder. Dejan springs back and looks down in horror. “Brate I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t-”

Mo sits back up. “Okay I’ll come to your hotel if it means that much.” He laughs again but there’s a twinge to it as he tries to roll his shoulder a little, to make the pain calm back down. 

“Brate, really. No jokes, I’m so sorry. I should be more careful.” Dejan stands, turning away from Mo because he can feel all the emotion coming out that he tried to bottle up, that he thought had totally washed away just by Mohammed being here. They’d managed to exist in a bubble for an hour or so but now it was all here. He still felt heartbroken over the loss, so annoyed at himself that he’d let fans down, and so angry with himself for hurting Mo’s bad shoulder, just getting carried away in some stupid joke. 

Mo moves towards him and wraps his arms around his waist as he leans into Dejan’s back “I’m okay. It’s all okay. We’ll go for it all again next year.” All of a sudden it feels like he never went on holiday, like he never opened that hotel, it’s like he’s just left the pitch and has seen Mo back at the hotel. All the pain of losing still feels so fresh. He’s zoned out in his sad thoughts and when he comes back to himself he realises he’s back on the sofa, his arms are wrapped around Mo, sat next to him with his legs across Dejan’s lap, head is buried in the crook of Dejan's neck, kissing the soft skin there between whispered reassurances. Dejan reaches up to touch his own face and it’s a bit wet from tears.

He hates this, hates that he’s like this, stuck with these big emotions that just throw him all over the place. More than that he hates that he’s the one who needs comfort, that Mo is forced to baby him and his fragile ego, when Mo is the one who’s hurt. Mo was hurt and didn’t need comfort then, just wanted space, didn’t need these soothing words and physical reassurances.

He tries to push down the anger, because anger is the emotion he hates the most, the anger in him makes him feel like he’s a six year old brat. The part of him that’s angry is desperate to question Mo on why he pushed him away at half time in the final, why he wouldn’t let Dejan comfort him in even a small way. The part of him that’s angry wants to make a bigger mess of this so he can stay angry, and then maybe he’ll never have to be overtaken by sadness again.

But he doesn’t want that really, it’s not a worthwhile trade. All the joy he shares with Mohammed, all the love they have between them, far outweighs the sadness. And even he knows he’d be an idiot to throw that away for pride. He wraps his arms around Mo and whispers “Sorry again.”

Mo hums contentedly and starts kissing Dejan’s neck a bit less chastely, moving up to kiss along his jawline. Mo’s good at bringing him back to reality slowly and for a moment his thoughts are still wrapped up in sadness over the fact that when they were in that medical room and Mo was overwhelmed with sadness, he wanted to keep that part of himself from Dejan.

But then Mo’s cupping his face in both hands and kissing him properly, and as Dejan’s lips part eagerly to meet his, all those melancholic thoughts start slipping away. They kiss slowly, Dejan leaning down to kiss Mo curled around him before Mo moves suddenly, straddling Dejan and deepening the kiss.

They’ve been apart for so long and now Dejan’s got all his sadness out of the way, now he’s talked himself down from being petty, all the desperate longing he’s been feeling since they’ve seen each other again is coming out. They’re kissing like it’s the end of the world, Dejan bites at Mohammed’s bottom lip, the other man’s exhale turns into a moan ever so slightly. “Dejan.”

Dejan’s starting to get hard, and if he wasn’t unsure about what would hurt Mo he’d pull him flush against him to get some friction between them. But he’s still unsure, so slides his hands under Mo’s shirt, tracing over the soft skin. Mo’s heart flutters and he sighs, softer now, “Dejan.” He’s leaning forward, bringing their bodies closer together and he can feel how hard Dejan is getting as he ruts slightly into his hip. He drops his head against Dejan’s shoulder as he rocks his hips for a moment. “Want you so much. Missed you so much.”

Dejan pulls Mo’s hips down getting a better angle for the friction between then and moans slightly. “Fuck. Same. Let’s go to bed.” Mo kisses him again, making a pleased noise before he pulls away and stands up. Outstretching his arm to take Dejan’s hand and pull him off the sofa, leading him towards the bedroom.

When they get upstairs Lovren crashes onto the bed, waiting for Mo to crash on top of him, but instead he sits on the edge a slightly nervous energy radiating from him.

He laughs a little awkwardly, like he’s fed up of himself before asking in a quiet voice “Dej, can you help me take my shirt off, it can be a little…” He closes his eyes and scrunches up his face, not really wanting to admit that the process of getting a t-shirt over his head has been a painful hell for him the past few weeks.

Dejan moves closer “Of course brate, what do you need me to do?” They struggle for a moment, Mo not really being able to tell Dejan the best way for him to move his shoulder and just having to make slow adjustments for Dejan to get the top over his head and off. He throws it over Mo’s head like he’s shooting a basketball, about to do a cheering crowd sound effect.

It hits something on the other side of the room and Mo turns to watch things tumble onto the floor, he turns back laughing, pushing Dejan back so he’s pinned against the bed and leaning down to kiss him deeply.

Mo doesn’t waste much more time kissing before sliding his hand down to Dejan’s shorts, tracing his fingers teasingly up the length of Dejan’s hard cock making him buck up into the touch.

“Wait” Dejan is a little bit breathless, he sits up and wraps his arms around Mo’s waist, “I don’t want to hurt your shoulder. What’s the best way? When does it hurt? Should we get more pillows so you can sit back and…”

“I’m fine Dej, we’ll be fine.” And now Mo is smiling the smile that really makes his heart melt. Okay, well, every time he looks at Mo smiling or not his heart melts anyway. But right now Mo is looking at him with pure love across his face and it makes Dejan forget that there’s anything else that matters in the world beyond this. “We’ll just be a bit slow, yeah?”

Dejan nods, pulling Mo into another kiss. “I love you, you know?”

“I know.” Mo nods “You love me spread across your bed like a pillow princess. All the time with thinking I need a mountain of pillows to be comfortable.” He slides his hands under Dejan’s shirt, tracing his fingers over the hard muscle up to one of his nipples, giving Dejan chills. He moves his hands back to the hem of the shirt, pushing it up higher until Dejan gets the idea and pulls it off over his head.

“You’re supposed to tell me you love me too.” Mo is giggling at the fake offended look on Dejan’s face and it doesn’t take long before Dejan breaks into giggles too, peppering quick kisses all over Mo's face. He breaks away for a moment “Did you know pillow princess is already a thing?”

“Pillow princess? No?” The confusion is clear in Mo’s voice, “maybe I’ve heard it in the changing room?”

“Look it up later. It’s not you.” Dejan smiles again before capturing Mo’s lips with another kiss, wrapping his arms around Mohammed and falling back against the mattress with him.

Mo kisses down Dejan’s neck, open mouthed and sloppy as he makes his way down to Dejan’s nipples, tongue sliding across them, making Dejan gasp. Mo’s hand slides down to cup Dejan’s cock through his shorts. He can’t hold his weight super well on his bad shoulder, and doesn’t have the angle to get the shorts off with the other. “Help me out, get naked.” His breath his warm as he laughs against Dejan’s stomach and Dejan raises his hips and pulls the shorts off straight away. 

Dejan’s hard cock lies against his stomach and he runs his hand through Mohammed’s soft curls as he continues kissing along his abs, letting his fingers tangle in the curls, his breathing getting heavier as Mo teases him. Drifting the kisses closer to where he wants Mo’s mouth the most, before drifting away again.

He moves further down the bed and starts kissing Dejan’s hipbones, biting the skin slightly, before kissing the tops of his thighs, first right and then left.

 

Dejan’s hand tightens in his hair as his hips buck slightly. “Enough body worship, you’re just teasing me.”

Mohammed smiles back up at him. “Who me?” He laughs before licking along the underside of Dejan’s dick, up to where pre-come has started leaking from the tip and Dejan’s hips start to buck again. When Mohammed takes him in his hand and starts jacking him slowly, Dejan moans. Mohammed laughs again, it’s full of fondness and not at all malicious, Dejan knows, and then Mo sucks the head of his cock into his mouth with an appreciative hum. “Fuck.” Dejan moans low as the other man starts to find a rhythm.

Dejan knows he’s not going to be able to last long, but he’s trying to fight it, thinking that he’ll pull Mo off so that he can fuck him. But he’s lost in the sensation of Mohammed’s warm mouth, the things his tongue does to him as it swirls around the tip whenever he pulls off for a moment and Dejan gets lost in it. When Mo starts to speed up, hollowing his cheeks obscenely as he looks up through dark eyelashes at Dejan lost in bliss, he moans again.

“Mo, I’m gonna. I can’t-” He chokes out the words on a moan. His hips start bucking and Mo doesn’t stop them, instead letting Dejan fuck his mouth for a moment before he’s reaching down and cupping Dejan’s balls and Dejan’s totally lost in the moment, moaning loudly as his hand tightens in Mohammed’s curls again and he comes, hips lifting off the bed and vision dipping into black for a second.

Mo curls around him, arm draped over his torso as Dejan catches his breath, turning onto his side to pull Mohammed into a kiss. Mohammed ruts against Dejan, painfully hard.

“Wanted to fuck you though.” Dejan sighs.

“Ah, Dej.” Mo is breathless as he grips Dejan’s shoulder, desperately trying to find more friction between them. “It’s fine. I’ll take anything.” He’s completely breathless and Dejan rolls him onto his back. “Please.” It’s more of a whine than he wants it to be, and he’s definitely begging, but he doesn’t really care. He needs Dejan to touch him.

Dejan pushes himself up so he’s leaning over Mohammed, kissing him once more before pulling Mohammed’s tracksuit and pants off, he spits into his hand and starts jerking Mohammed off quickly. Mohammed’s whole body is twitching in the relief of finally being touched, clutching at Dejan and pulling him into a kiss. Dejan trails kisses down his neck, across to his ear where he bites the lobe slightly, before he lists off a litany of dirty things he’s been imagining doing to Mo since they’ve been separated and it’s not long before Mohammed is coming all over his hand, gasping his name.

After, when they’ve come down from the high and are curled around each other, Dejan is tracing patterns into the soft skin of Mo’s hip as he drifts to sleep.

He finally believes what Virgil said to him the night of the Champions League final. This will all be history soon, everything will carry on as normal and Mo won’t suffer from the sadness of being injured too long. Dejan pulls Mo closer to him, kissing his neck, thinking about what they’ve got ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Sometime in early 2018 - Liverpool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're flashing back to the beginning of all the love between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this story was only going to be the next chapter after this one, but I got high in the bath and couldn't get the start of their relationship out of my head and it all spiralled from there. 
> 
> Part of me wonders if I'm putting this in at the right point - but I'm going with my gut. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's commented because it totally makes my day when I read them. Enjoy!

They were back from their second warm weather training trip when Mo started to get anxious about how he was feeling about Lovren. They were great friends, everything had been instant between them ever since he’d got to the club, and he thought the world of Dejan. But now he was worried.

They’d become almost inseparable, constantly laughing and joking, all the light touches, the late night chats. All the small things were starting to add up to bigger things, and Mohammed couldn’t keep ignoring the pull of his heart forever. Falling in love with Dejan shouldn’t have felt so sudden, but it was like waking up and finding out it had snowed overnight, there it was; and it blanketed everything.

Mohammed had become trapped in the gravitational pull of Dejan. Every moment they were together after he’d realised he was falling head over heels for him, was terribly conflicting. He’d always thought of himself as disciplined, fully in control of his actions. But every moment he indulged his desires too long, every time he pushed the boundary to see how much casual affection he could get away with, Mohammed became filled with guilt.

He was keeping a secret from his best friend, he was taking advantage of the friendship and indulging in his crush. The guilty thoughts swirled, he felt like he was lying, and he couldn't stop torturing himself over it. With every moment they were together after Mo realised how he felt, part of their interaction was a lie and it was all on him.

Getting back from the short break and continuing training at Melwood, he figured everything would calm back down. It didn’t. Mohammed started to feel like the guilt would drive him crazy. He’d stopped jerking off, deciding at least he could stay in control of that. If he wasn’t jerking off he wouldn’t be able to have images of Dejan pushing him up against the wall in the showers slipping into his head, and he owed his friend that at least.

The third time Mo’s distance in training leaves Dejan with an anxious crease in his brow, he knows he can’t escape this forever. He gets a text of Dejan not long after he’s home; _You okay brate? Something seems wrong?_

Mo takes hours to build up the nerve, deciding he has to tell Dejan. Even if it puts everything at risk, even if it’s the end of his friendship, or the end of him enjoying Liverpool if Dejan can’t even stand to be around Mo when he knows. Eventually Mo responds; _I’m okay. I need to talk to you._

_Of course, call me?_

Mo already felt sick with the whole thing; _Can I come speak to you?_

Dejan responds instantly; _I’ll come to you? I’ll be there in fifteen?_

Mo feels numb, the reality of what was about to happen now setting in. _Sure._

Dejan gets to the house and Mo is worked up into an over-caffeinated frenzy, almost certain he’s going to be sick. When the doorbell sounds Mohammed almost jumps out of his skin. He goes to the door, Dejan’s face is a picture of pure concern - brow furrowed and eyes searching. He pulls Mo into a hug instantly and Mo feels like his heart could snap in half.

He takes a deep breath against Dejan’s chest and tries not to get upset over the fact that his best friend might not be his best friend after this conversation, he might have to carry on at Liverpool with a stony awkwardness between them. Or worse, with Dejan being openly disgusted by him.

They sit down on the sofas, Dejan’s eyes trained on Mo’s face; trying to work out what’s going through his mind. Mo starts with a shaky voice, not looking up from his hands. “Ah, I’m sorry to have dragged you here tonight, we have training again tomorrow. I know you’re probably…” He loses track of what he’s saying and his throat feels choked with the words he doesn’t want to say, but knows he has to. He’s staring into space when Dejan moves into his eye line, throwing him out of his thoughts.

“I’m very sorry, I feel like I’m just a terrible friend, I have lied to you.” Mo’s voice breaks slightly and the tears burn in his eyes as he tries to blink them away. Dejan is sat looking at him with a mix of confusion and concern now. “I’m not straight.” Mo puts his head in his hands as a tear starts to fall, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes to block more tears. Every time he confesses that fact about himself to someone, it still feels as heavy as it did the first time. He’s still so scared he’ll be shown pure hate over it like he has been by others. “I’m gay.” It’s mumbled into his hands, but he knows Dejan would have heard.

There’s a dip on the sofa next to him and a warm arm wrapped around his back, he can feel Dejan’s whole body move as he laughs slightly at his side. “Why would that matter to me? Or any of the boys?” When Mo doesn’t stop hiding his face, Dejan rubs his back to try and soothe him. It makes Mo prickle. He leans away, and he feels ridiculous but he can’t deal with Dejan being so nice when he still doesn’t know everything.

“No that’s not it, I’m not finished.” And he’s almost starting to cry now, because sure, he knew that bit would be okay. It was a confession and a big deal to him, but he knew Dejan wouldn’t kick off at having someone gay on the team. They all know Jordan and Adam have been a thing for years and nobody flinches away from their touches, or waits for them to leave the changing room to get dressed. Hell, Dejan’s even joked about stealing Adam away from Jordan for being “too cute for his own good” before. Mo’s never felt jealousy burn hotter in his chest than it did in that moment.

“I know this might change everything.” Mo continues, “I’m not going to judge how you react to what I’m going to say, because you have every right to feel however you feel, and I’m the one who’s been unfair to both of us. It’s my own fault whatever-”

Dejan cuts him off “Just tell me.”

“I think… I keep…” He’s trying to find the right words. “I’m attracted to you, falling for you, already fallen… and we spend so much time together, always in each other’s space. I don’t want to feel like I’m- or for you to feel like I’m some creep.”

Dejan reaches out to touch Mo’s arm, voice soft as Mo’s ever heard. “Stop. Stop beating yourself up. This is fine.” He pulls Mo into a hug, and for a few seconds Mo stays stiff, hands in his lap. But Dejan doesn’t let go, and after a few moments Mohammed twists into the hug, pressing his face against Dejan as a tear falls. When Dejan leans down to kiss Mo’s forehead, Mo wraps his arms around Dejan, who squeezes him tightly.

Mo starts on a litany of apologies that are muffled by Dejan’s shirt and then looks up, eyes a bit red. “I don’t know what happens now, I’m sorry.”

Lovren sighs leaning back against the couch, pulling Mo with him. “Well, first of all you need to realise nothing is different. Everything is fine, I still think you’re amazing.” and Mo nods, freeing an arm from Lovren’s tight hold to wipe at his eyes. “And then I’m going to kiss you.”

“What?” Mo asks, but then Dejan’s face is moving towards his until he’s pressing his forehead against Mo’s, and he can feel Dejan’s breath against his lips.

“Is that okay if I do that?” Dejan’s voice is barely a whisper.

Mo’s eyes flutter closed, nodding slightly and Dejan closes the space between them, kissing Mo softly, running his hands up his back to draw him closer.

Mohammed's heart almost jumps out of his chest and he’s pretty sure he has emotional whiplash. Dejan pulls back and is almost breaking into a smug grin. “I didn’t think this would happen when I came over tonight.” Mo still looks nervous and Lovren cups his face in his hands. Gently speaking, “You’re perfect. You know I believe that with everything I’ve got.”

Mo is still on edge like a twitchy cat. This can’t be right, this wasn’t how he thought it would go. But it’s going this way, and they sit kissing softly again as Dejan keeps up a stream of reassurances until Mo is finally back in his mind enough to hold a conversation.

He pulls back and opens his mouth to speak a few times, before stopping with a puzzled look on his face. “You’ve kissed a man before then?” Mohammed asks.

“You can tell with just a kiss?” Dejan laughs, but Mohammed is still unsure, flicking his eyes around the room like he’s not in his own house, looking for a way to make a quick exit if needs be. Dejan can feel the pure nervous energy rolling off him.

“Well, I… No. I just mean. Most guys who-” There’s a tension between them that’s never been there before, and Dejan is starting to realise everything that must have been building underneath the surface for Mo, for weeks. There’s no easy laughter like Mo is usually so quick to, there’s just fear of rejection and abandonment and even humiliation. Dejan gets it. He takes Mo’s hand and brings it up to his lips for a kiss.

“I experimented a bit when I was younger, and I knew I was attracted to men, but I liked girls too.” Mo nods and he’s holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for the punch in the gut that tells him this can’t really happen in the way he wants, whatever is between them isn’t anything real. “I just figured in the end I’d find a girl to settle down with. Start a family, make mum happy. All that.”

Mo nods with the slightest of bitter smiles, it’s a small and sad movement. Dejan can see his eyes filling with tears. “I guess you’ll-”

“No, Mo. Stop.” Dejan cuts in, pressing his head against Mo’s shoulder, almost frustrated. Wishing he could just transfer everything he feels and thinks about Mo directly into his brain, but he can’t, and flowery declarations of love have never been his strong point. “I didn’t find a girl. I didn’t really go looking for one - I didn’t go looking for anything. It was just football. Football was all I wanted for my future, I didn’t want to be distracted. And then football brought you to me.”

Dejan cups Mo’s face with his hand, tracing his thumb so lightly over Mo’s cupid’s bow. “I know you think I haven’t thought this through, like I’m having a wild moment indulging a fantasy or something. I know I don’t have the best blueprint in my head for a what a perfect romance looks like, or even a normal one, I was probably an idiot not to notice any of my feelings. But when you told me how you felt… I felt like everything had clicked, and I’d been walking around blind.”

Dejan moves Mo’s hand and places it flat over his heart. “I swear to you, cross my heart and hope to die, like Trent says. If I hadn’t pushed the part of myself that even attempts to get into anything romantic with people away, I would have noticed how I was feeling much sooner.”

Mo nods, and smiles his usual smile, the smile that feels like it could keep the whole team warm if they were stranded in Siberia, and Dejan’s grinning back. “We’re both idiots, eh?” He says with a laugh, breaking the tension between them as he nudges Mo until he laughs too. 

Mo’s giggle is bright and Dejan never wants to forget this moment. 

 

* * *

 

The slow kisses and gentle touches could only last so long before Dejan felt like he was going to lose his mind, he’d felt so sure that Mohammed should take the lead, that he wouldn’t want to be pushed or rushed through anything. But it had been a month since Mo’s big confession and Dejan couldn’t keep acting like he was in a PG-13 movie forever.

Then one night as they’re kissing on Dejan’s bed, Mo’s hand drifts lower, before he pulls it away quickly, unsure. And Dejan realises the other man has been holding back, probably waiting for him to take the lead. This is as far as they always go, making out like teenagers, tops off but too nervous to do anything else. Dejan decides someone's going to have to take the lead eventually, and it may as well be him.

He drifts kisses lower down Mo’s neck, biting slightly against his pulse point and rolling Mo onto his back as he continues kissing further down his chest. He moves back up towards Mo’s ear “Can I touch you? I’m dying to, Mo.”

He hears Mohammed’s breath catch in his throat as he nods, pulling Dejan back up for another kiss. They’re both already hard, they’ve just been desperately waiting for accidental friction as they lie making out. Dejan is already on the edge of coming in his pants knowing they can go beyond that tonight.

Dejan tugs down Mohammed’s shorts and pants in one go, and Mo kicks them off to help free his legs. Dejan takes him in hand and starts jerking him off slowly, swiping his thumb over the head of Mo’s cock occasionally, spreading precome around and making him moan against Dejan’s mouth.

Mohammed barely waits a minute and is reaching down to unbuckle Dejan’s belt, desperate to touch him. Dejan sits up to get the belt off along with the jeans and pants he’s still wearing as fast as possible, just as desperate for Mo’s touches. Mohammed takes Dejan’s swollen cock in his hand as Dejan lies back down next to him, letting go of Mo’s cock to grab his ass, pulling his body a bit closer so Mohammed can thrust against his hip.

In the back of Dejan’s mind he knows he should focus on Mo, but he’s being greedy and selfish. He’s full of want and need, and feels like he’s on fire with it all.

“Jesus Mo, you’ve got no idea. How much I’ve wanted this, how much I’ve thought about this.” He’sthrusting into Mo’s hand, speeding up the rhythm. Dejan squeezes Mo’s ass hard enough tomake him moan as he pulls them closer together again, letting Mohammed get a better angle that’s making him gasp against Dejan’s chest.

Mohammed’s voice is barely a whisper and if they weren’t pressed so close together he thinks he might have missed it over the noise of his own moans. “Want you to fuck me Dej. Would feel so good. Dreamt that you-” but before he can finish his sentence Dejan is moaning his name, coming all over his hand.

Dejan lies still panting for a moment, and when he looks up Mohammed is smiling. “You can’t say stuff like that when I’m so close to the edge.” Dejan rolls onto his back, pulling Mo on top of him for a filthy kiss. “But yes. God yes, I want to fuck you so bad.”

“We need-” Mo is cut off as Lovren pushes him off to scramble to his bedside drawer, producing a small tube of lube and smirking. “Oh, you’ve got supplies?” Mohammed’s voice is bright and teasing, with an almost giggle at how eager Dejan seems, but it quickly turns back to a moan as Dejan takes him in hand again.

Dejan kisses down Mohammed’s chest and stomach before licking a wet stripe up Mohammed’s cock as he fumbles with the tube to get Mohammed ready. Mo spreads his legs further apart, twitching with nerves and excitement as Dejan slides a cool lubed finger against his hole, making him gasp slightly. As Dejan starts to push inside he moves back up the bed so he can watch Mohammed’s face, his eyes are shut as his mouth falls open with swollen lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” Dejan’s voice is reverent.

Dejan works his finger in and out faster, Mo’s hips start twitching off the bed, as he's gasping Dejan’s name. “More, please Dej. More.” Dejan is more than happy to oblige and adds a second finger, working them in and out faster, every so often pulling a loud moan or gasp from Mohammed whenever he grazes them against his prostate.

Dejan can feel himself getting hard again and starts rutting against Mohammed’s hip slightly. “Another?” He asks Mohammed as he sucks a love bite at the base of Mohammed's throat, where he knows it’ll be easy to keep covered with t-shirts.

Mohammed nods, almost whining as Dejan’s fingers hit the spot that makes his hips buck again. “Please.”

Dejan adds a third, moving them in and out slowly until Mo looks comfortable, and then pushes it until he’s desperate, swearing at Dejan as he begs for more. Moving his hips, trying to fuck himself faster on Dejan's fingers. Dejan thinks he might explode if he doesn't fuck Mo right this minute. He pulls his fingers out, causing Mo to gasp again as he props himself on his elbows to watch Dejan squeeze more lube into his hand and stroke himself twice.

He settles between Mo’s legs, he’s fully hard again now and is using all his effort not to rut against Mo. He leans down and kisses Mo, gently, more gentle than he’s been all night. “This is okay? Like this? Do you want to…” He trails off, not sure what he’s really asking.

Mo wraps his arms around Dejan’s neck, pulling him closer. “Like this. Please, Dej.” He brings his legs up to wrap around Dejan’s hips. Dejan bites his lip on a moan as he lines up his cock and starts pushing inside, desperately trying to be gentle and not push in too hard or fast for Mo. When he’s fully inside he rocks his hips slowly, fucking Mo deeply and making him moan.

Dejan pulls all the way out slowly before pushing back in again, and Mohammed is twitching beneath him. “Please, Dej. I won’t break. Fuck.” He moans again as Dejan starts thrusting faster.

“You feel so good Mo, Jesus.” Dejan is moaning now, thrusts growing faster and faster until he can feel his orgasm building again. “So gorgeous. So tight. You’re perfection.” Mohammed is lost beneath him in a world of pleasure, begging slightly between his own gasps and when Dejan grabs his cock to start jerking him off in time with his thrusts Mo’s gasps turn into moans.

“Fuck, Dejan. Please. Please.” Dejan can feel Mo almost shaking as he wraps his legs tighter around Dejan, opening himself up more so that Dejan’s cock is hitting that spot inside him with every thrust.

Dejan’s babbling unaware of what he’s even saying, “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this? How much I’ve imagined what you’d feel like? You’re so perfect.” Mohammed comes all over Dejan’s hand and his own stomach. Dejan’s fucking him frantically, his praises turning into incoherent moans, as he thrusts hard and comes inside Mohammed.

He lies there on top of Mohammed for a moment, catching his breath, before he kisses Mo slowly and pulls out, making Mohammed whimper.

 

* * *

 

Dejan will forget about the details of the start of their relationship, will look back on it all with rose tinted glasses, and only think about how much joy they found in being together. He will forget the depth of sadness he’d lost Mohammed to after the warm weather training, and the pain he could sense in Mo’s heart the night Mo confessed his feelings. He’ll remember how perfect it felt the moment he first kissed Mohammed, or how bright he’d smiled when Dejan has asked to take him on a _real date,_ and Mo had started to really believe his big feelings weren’t unrequited.

Dejan forgets how nervous Mohammed was for the first few months of them exploring what was between them, so afraid Dejan was just going along with it for the team’s sake - like Mo would want to leave if his feelings weren’t returned. Or how much self-doubt Mo was filled with, talking nonsense about feeling like he was undeserving of love from Dejan, after how he’d taken advantage of their friendship at the start. 

For the first month there was nothing more than slow kisses and gentle touches, as Mo was trying to figure out how to make everything work in reality, along with working through all the emotions he’d pushed away for years. Most nights they would lie together in Dejan’s bed, as Mohammed talked about what had happened when he’d had feelings for guys in the past, or the reactions when people had found out he liked boys. Dejan’s arms would be wrapped around him, holding him close, unaware he was pulling Mohammed away from some of the darkest thoughts he’d ever had. Making him feel invincible, like no one could ever hurt him for who he was again.


	4. Manchester/Liverpool - 03/01/19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lovren beats himself up over every loss, but after being undefeated in the league, this one seems to hit harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was where the story started so I've had this written for ages, so why not upload two chapters in one day!

They get off the pitch and no one wants to deal with the sad atmosphere in the dressing room, Dejan can’t help but feel a sting in his heart, how long had it been since they’d dealt with this feeling? Feeling disappointed in themselves, feeling heartbroken for letting the fans down.

It’s not like they’ve never dealt with this before, and he knows this is just one loss that doesn’t decide anything, he thinks back to how heartbreaking the Champions League final was - and this is nothing on that. But still, going so long unbeaten in the Premiere League meant this loss was hitting them all harder than usual. It’s Man City, and rationally they all know how hard a match it was, what a team they were up against. But they wanted it so badly, and they knew how much the fans wanted it too.

It’s a loop that leaves Dejan pulling his phone out of his bag as soon as they’re back in the away team dressing room, as other lads are quickly stripping off and heading into the showers - hoping the hot water could get the ache out of their hearts as well as their bodies. Jordan’s northern accent is filling the room, telling everyone the usual lines.

“It was a hard fight - we didn’t make it easy for them either.”

“We were so close, if only a bit more luck had been on our side instead of Man City’s”

“We win and we lose together - this was no one’s fault. We go again on Monday, we respond to this loss by coming back stronger and unshaken.”

It’s all drifting over his head as he’s about to go onto Twitter, knowing all the negative comments will be left for him there and masochistically wanting to punish himself with them. He knows he made mistakes, he’s hyper-fixated on them now. He’s about to add another layer to mentally torturing himself through the night, when someone takes the phone from his hands.

He looks from his now empty hands up to see Mo’s sad smile. “Come on brate, you know it’s not good for you.” Lovren sighs, and nods but he knows the negative loop of thoughts won’t leave his head that easy. He’s not sure it’s worse, being left without seeing negative comments from fans means he won’t see the fans defending him either. He shakes that thought out of his mind, feeling pathetic for wanting so much validation.

He’s disappointed in himself - he’s disappointed for the team - he’s disappointed for the staff who work so hard - he’s disappointed for the fans - they might think it’s his fault - he’s disappointed in himself. Over and over in his mind, all roads lead back to disappointment.

He tries to distance himself from the loop, watching Mo walk back to his locker to put the confiscated phone in his own bag before disappearing into the showers. He notices Virg out of the corner of his eye, out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist, stood by his locker staring into space. Zoned out and lost in his own sad anger, his own negative looped thoughts.

Lovren does the same for a while before he starts pulling his clothes off and heads into the showers, touching Virgil on the arm slightly as he goes - as if to say - _We’re all in that loop, don’t be there alone._ But it doesn’t seem to register as Virgil stays as still and stoic as ever, Dejan carries on into the showers.

Some people need comfort after a loss, some people need space. Dejan has always felt like he shouldn’t need comfort, he should be able to deal with it on his own without burdening anyone else, but in his gut he wants someone to tell him that it’s okay and it’s not his fault. Mo’s been good at that since he came to Liverpool. They had the same sense of humour right off the bat, so of course it was the same when they were both hurting and upset.

The first time he’d been upset over losing Mo had barely been at the club more than a month. He had asked Dejan to get coffee late that night, to distract them both. He didn’t go, indulging in his own melancholic tendencies, but was snapped out of them when Mo showed up at his house, two cups of coffee in hand and an unsure look on his face.

Dejan couldn’t turn him away, and when Mo came inside and started comforting him, it didn’t feel forced, it didn’t make him feel ashamed for needing someone to confide his self-doubt in. It just felt easy, and comfortable, and for once he felt deserving of comfort. This was long before they’d even realised they had feelings for one another. Dejan will never get over how stupid he was not to notice it before it had all worked Mo up into a panicked mess, the penny only dropping after Mohammed had confessed his feelings.

As he’s walking into the showers Mo is already on his way out, Dejan tries to pull him into a hug but is pushed back with a laugh. “Yeah right Dej, get showered before you hug me.”

He gets under the hot water and wishes it made it better, but it doesn’t. The loop still plays in his mind when he’s back alone with his thoughts, he imagines what people are saying about him online and can’t tell if he's being too harsh or not harsh enough. He floats from thought to thought, trying not to spiral out of control but also fully aware that he’s already spiralled - when a deep voice calls “Dej, come on. We want to get out of here.”

“Sorry.” He stops the shower and goes into auto-pilot getting ready to leave. It’s still tense in the dressing room, and now they’ve all got their disappointment out of their system the anger is starting to show through. Trent’s voice is starting to rise as he talks about Kompany’s tackle being a clear red card, someone else is questioning if the one Man City goal was offside. Klopp’s German accent cuts through the dressing room then.

“Does this matter now? No. It happened. That was the game, we played it and we lost. It might not have been fair - we’ve lost out to unfair decisions before, eh? We carry on.” He pulls Trent into a hug and is squeezing him tightly. “I have faith in you. You all need to keep believing in yourselves, in this team. We can’t let one loss throw us out of this moment.”

He’s making his way around, hugging them all again, telling them how proud he is. Dejan doesn’t want it, doesn’t feel deserving of it, and after Klopp hugs Mo he walks over and pulls Mo into a hug himself.

“I’m not giving you your phone back Dej.” Mo laughs a little, looking up at him through his eyelashes with a glimmer in his eye. This is what makes Dejan weak at the knees for Mo, he just looks at him like he _knows_ every single thing that’s going on in his head and can deal with it perfectly. Today the melodrama clearly won't be indulged, Mohammed choosing to keep a teasing tone in his voice, goading Dejan into wanting to be teasing back. He's a sucker for their fake arguments that usually end in laughter and kisses, and Mohammed knows it.

Mo knows he doesn’t like the fact that he needs comfort, so instead of anything over the top, there’s a solid unwavering friendship and warm smiles as distractions. Dejan had never told him that he feels ashamed for needing reassurance, but Mo never did it in front of everyone. Mo would be his usual charming, quick-witted self until they had privacy, and then he would overflow with compassion and support and it all left Dejan vaguely teary, wondering how he got so lucky.

They sit next to each other on the bus, Mo pulls out his phone and headphones and Lovren looks at him horrified. “Come on brate, I can’t even have my phone to listen to music?”

“You can’t be trusted.” Mo laughs lightly and Dejan rolls his eyes. “Get your headphones out, we’ll have one each.”

“As if we don’t listen to all your favourite music enough in the car.” Dejan rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath "Is every striker such a diva?" Mo elbows him in the ribs as he reaches to them out of his bag.

“Sorry you have awful taste in music.” He's smiling and Dejan can't help but smile back. They put a headphone in each and Salah picks the music, leaning his body against Dejan’s, as Dejan rests his hand on Mo’s thigh. Dejan stops the negative loop of thoughts playing again and again by focusing on the feeling of Mo pressed against him, their breathing falling in time as he taps out the rhythm of the song against Mo’s leg. 

They’re all thankful its not a long bus ride home - and they’ll be collapsed in bed within a few hours or so. As they start approaching Liverpool in the dark Mo turns and smiles sleepily, Dejan starts tracing hearts and swirls on Mohammed’s leg. 

They go back to Dejan’s; Mo opens a cupboard and places two mugs down on the counter, he looks over at Dejan when he hears him opening a bottle of beer and puts one mug back. He’s waiting for the kettle to boil when Dejan crowds behind him, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist, kissing his neck.

“I would have murdered Kompany if he’d hurt you.” he breathes quietly, pressing his face into the soft skin, Mo turns and Dejan braces his arms against the counter, trapping Mo in place and giving him a serious look. Mo’s hand comes up to cup his face, stroking across his jawline.

“I’m sure you would have. I’m sure Virg was on the edge when he tried to make a joke about it to.”

The kettle clicks and before Mo can turn to finish making his drink, Dejan steals a quick kiss. He's about to step back when Mohammed grabs a handful of his shirt and pulls him back towards him, rising on his tip-toes to kiss Dejan again. It's slow and sweet and they're both so tired it quickly becomes sloppy as Mo slides his tongue across Dejan's lips, licking into his mouth.

They pull apart and Dejan presses a kiss to Mohammed's forehead, moving away before he's tempted to lift Mo onto the counter and carry on kissing like the world was going to end. Mo finishes making tea while Dejan hovers behind him, looking in cupboards like he might get something to eat, wondering if he should to offer something to be a good host. Before he gets the chance Mohammed takes his hand and pulls him over to the couch. 

Dejan sits back spreading his arms along the back of the couch, putting his bottle down as Mo sits next to him, leaning against his chest so Dejan can drop his arm around Mo. They sit in the quiet for a moment before Lovren sinks in the chair slightly and Mo tips his head back to look Dejan in the eye. He’s not looking back at him, he's tipped his head back against the sofa looking at the ceiling with an almost determined sadness. Mo sips his tea quietly, giving Dejan some time to dwell on his thoughts until he gets bored of them.

Dejan lifts his head and presses his face into Mohammed's soft hair. “You know we all go away and feel like it’s our own fault, and it never is just one person’s fault.” Mo feels Dejan nod and the hot breath of a sigh against his neck gives him goosebumps. “Put something on the TV, distract us from everything.”

When Dejan turns the TV on it goes straight to a sports channel. "No sports!" Mohammed laughs, leaning forward to put his empty mug on the floor. Dejan flicks about for a bit and Mo can almost feel him getting annoyed at the lack of anything good, he waits until he see's something half bearable to decide for them both. You can always guarantee there's an endless amount of friends playing through the night somewhere, when Dejan goes past it Mohammed hums slightly. "Friends is alright, I guess."

They sit with the show washing over them, something's going on with Ross or no one's paying him attention, Mohammed is too tired to care anyway. The laugh track washes over them both as Mohammed shifts until he's comfy, turned in towards Dejan, one arm around his waist. He plays with the hem of his shirt before sliding his hand underneath, never getting bored of the fact that he can touch Dejan like this.

Dejan makes the slightest noise, like he was about to say something, but stops. "Say it." Mohammed's voice is soft and even though it's an order, it doesn't feel like it. Dejan lets out a deep breath.

“I just feel like if I knew what people were saying, I’d be able to resolve it in my head. I’d either agree with the comments or feel like they’re bullshit and–”

Mo cuts him off, “You’d agree with comments that are way harsher than you deserve. You played a great game, we all did, it just wasn’t good enough this time. Shouldn’t you be angry with me not yourself?”

Mo’s moved slightly so he can look at Dejan without twisting his neck, Dejan scoffs, “I’d never be angry with you over this, come on.”

“But I didn’t score. I didn’t get us the goals we needed to win the match.” Dejan hates this, hates the glimmer Mo has in his eye when he’s trying to logic away emotions. “You can’t put this all on your shoulders, we win and lose as a team.”

“That sounds like you’re recycling a line from Hendo or Milly.”

Mo moves his hand from tracing patterns over Dejan's hip, he runs his thumb along Dejan's jaw before kissing him on the cheek. “I probably am, they’ve seen me when I’ve been putting all the pressure on myself, pulled me aside and told me not to get too in my own head.”

Dejan pulls Mo closer, running his hands up his sides to push his t-shirt up and touch the warm skin underneath. “And it’s your job to do that to me, is it?” His words aren’t meant to be cruel or harsh, even though his voice still sounds quite cold.

“Is there anyone else you’d rather?” Mo asks quietly, smiling as he moves to sit in Dejan's lap. Dejan quickly closes the space between them.

His eyes flutter closed as he feels Dejan’s breath hot on his lips, “No.” Dejan whispers before pressing their lips together in a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit 12/2/19 - there was going to be a final chapter but I’m calling it and might write it separately another time. But I don’t wanna leave this incomplete incase I never get back to it. It’s all fragments anyway so there’s no major loose ends to wrap up. 
> 
> I wrote all these in fragments here and there and then putting them together I worry they don't flow as well as they should, maybe I should have put them as individual stories in a series? Let me know what you think so I know for writing in the future - it would be super appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to wait until I had the whole thing written up to post this but decided if I put it in chapters it might be easier to follow when we jump back and forth in their relationship. And I'd feel obligated to finish it after getting something up.


End file.
